


Flyboy

by enemyfrigate



Category: RocknRolla (2008), Torchwood
Genre: Crossover, M/M, PWP, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-21
Updated: 2011-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enemyfrigate/pseuds/enemyfrigate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter leads to some fun in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flyboy

Dried up leaves fly on the harsh wind of a cool October night, flick against Handsome Bob’s jeans as he waits in a dark corner of a tiny airfield near Cardiff. There’s a smuggler he’s meeting, but he’s well early, and he can be patient, leant back against an old Quonset hut, out of the airfield lights.

There are enough aircraft coming and going that one more from the continent should not seem out of place, and the staff is carefully disinterested in any case.

Not for the first time, Handsome Bob considers getting some flying lessons in. They’re beautiful creatures, these little aircraft, and Bob’s got the readies to indulge himself if he wants.

From overhead, there’s the low buzz of a small aircraft coming in for a landing. Even to Bob’s inexpert eyes, the pilot brings her in perfect, belying long experience, sure, but a love for his craft as well.

It’s an old one, this plane, maybe World War II vintage. Bob would love to get his hands on her. His granddad had told him stories about flying against the Germans, Battle of Britain, the London Blitz, all of that. He’d died when Bob was young, primary school, so he didn’t have any details, but

The pilot jumps down from the plane, a young man, at least that’s how he moves, in a flight suit. Tall, broad shouldered, confident.

Gorgeous, and Bob hasn’t even seen his face.

Handsome Bob straightens from his slouch against the wall, and strolls to the edge of the field, just into the light. “Nice landing,” he says.

The pilot turns toward him, and light and shadow outline the planes of his face. His classically gorgeous face. Straight out of central fucking casting. With a fantastic, cocky grin.

“Thanks. You fly?”

“Thinking of taking some lessons. But I don’t need to fly to know beauty when I see it,” Handsome Bob says.

The handsome pilot extends a hand. “Jack.”

Bob takes it, holds it a little too long to just be friendly. “Bob.”

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

“Coffee‘s not what I had in mind, sweetheart,” Bob says.

“Direct,” Jack says

Bob steps back into the shadows by the old Quonset hut. Jack follows him.

There’s no need to talk about this. They’re both following the same map.

Jack kisses him, big hands pressed to the wall behind on either side of Bob’s head.

Fuck, but Jack can kiss. Bob could stand here all night doing this, cock straining his jeans, putting off the pay off until the last possible moment, when neither of them can stand it anymore.

Time isn’t on Bob’s side, though, and his mobile vibrates in his pocket.

“You need to get that?” Jack breathes against Bob’s mouth, in the sort of bedroom voice most people dream of.

“Got an appointment in a bit. Just a reminder,” Bob says.

“Guess we better get a move on, then,” Jack says.

“What a fucking hardship,” Bob says. “Get on your knees, flyboy.”

Jack’s grin gets even bigger. “Those are some of my favorite words.”

He sinks down and works Bob’s zip open. Bob’s cock goes from very, very interested, to very, very needy.

Jack breathes on Bob’s cock, and Bob grabs at Jack’s shoulder, meaning to guide him in. Can’t fucking wait, and that’s so fucking good, because he doesn’t have to hold back with this bloke.

Jack does just what he wants, though, which luckily for Bob includes swallowing him down, just more slowly than Bob’s cock is hoping for.

Getting a blow job from a man who loves giving a blow job is just about one of Bob’s favorite things, and Jack is enjoying himself, sucking him down messy and wet, making obscene noises.

Happy noises, too, and Jack’s hand is moving on his own cock, until Bob drops his hands from Jack’s head to his face, tilting just so to fuck Jack’s mouth, thrusting deep and off kilter into his welcoming throat until he spends, hard, into Jack‘s mouth.

Bob eases Jack off his cock, chill air burning along the wet length. Let’s Jack tuck him back into his boxers, do up his jeans.

“What a good boy,” Bob says.

Jack laughs, a low, throaty noise, and rises from his knees.

The flight suit, unzipped to his crotch, frames a thick handful of hard cock.

“Turn around,” Bob says, and hauls Jack back against him. He’s bigger than Bob, taller and a little broader, but that’s just what turns Bob’s crank. Bob runs his hand down Jack’s broad chest, down his belly, and Jack’s breathing roughens.

Bob’s got his fingers in that patch of thick hair, feels around the base of Jack’s cock, gets him shifting and unsettled, before descending to grasp the heavy organ. Jack goes a little limp against him, as Bob’s fingers work his cock, firm and smooth.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Bob mutters, without even thinking about it, “like that, just like that. Fuck, there’s a lot of you.”

He squeezes, and Jack lets out a breath, trying to keep quiet, but he’s not like some of the men Bob’s had in places like this, where they’re trying to hold everything back, where they don’t want to let go. Jack, Bob guesses, just doesn’t want to be disturbed.

Bob tightens his grip, slows each pull, and Jack comes, seed arching into the air.

“That was fantastic,” Jack says.

Bob kisses the side of his neck. “Yeah, thanks, mate.”

He lets go of Jack and digs a bandana out of his pocket to clean his hand, but Jack grabs his wrist and licks his fingers and palm clean of his own come.

That makes Bob want to get hard again, right there.

“Wish we had more time,” Bob says.

“Let me buy you that coffee, at least.”

A small aircraft comes in for a landing, and Bob watches it until he’s sure the markings match what he‘s been told. “Sorry, got things to do,” Bob says.

“Maybe I’ll see you around.” Jack kisses him, a hand on Bob’s cheek, then turns toward the office.

His arse is delicious even in a flight suit.

Bob, not without regret, turns away. Time to do some business.

Turns back.

Yells: “Oi, flyboy. Do you give lessons?”


End file.
